Chapter 100: The Bamboo Pole Courtesan

After several rounds of competition, Juntao finally took the stage.

Since the rehearsals were mostly complete before the performance, Logan, eager to fulfill the mission, pondered how to astonish the entire audience.

First, everyone except Juntao had their faces painted—essentially like modern soldiers applying camouflage.

Liu Buwen remarked, “How fascinating! Such a thing is never recorded in books. Is this from the Southern Barbarians? Or perhaps a grooming technique from the Eastern Isles?”

Logan shook his head, “No, it’s purely our own tradition, nothing imported.”

Xiao Zhi chimed in, “Hey! Brother Luo, don’t you think smearing mud on ourselves is a bit odd? Look,” he grabbed a handful of mud mixed with water, “there’s a strange smell in this mud—what’s that about?”

Yan Shan enthusiastically covered his entire face with mud, looking like someone indulging in a volcanic spa, all dusty and grimy.

“If the chairman says to apply it, then it must serve some purpose,” Yan Shan said with firm conviction.

Seeing everyone covered in mud made Juntao laugh.

“What are you all doing? Who performs like this? Isn’t this just making ourselves a laughingstock?”

Logan replied, “If they laugh, we’ve already won half the battle! With so many dancing together, we must have our own unique style.”

The official announcer finally called “Juntao from the Green Pavilion” to the stage. The crowd was eager, ready for a show.

The five dance troupes lined up in a row, but the lead dancer unexpectedly broke the routine, starting the dance first and capturing everyone’s attention.

Logan said, “That’s a sneaky move, just like in free fighting.”

Xiao Zhi asked, “What now? Should we jump in and join them?”

Logan thought for a moment and stopped him, “Since we can’t be first, let’s be last. The beginning and end attract the most attention.”

Other dance groups began their performances—some performed the peacock dance, others sang folk songs of the Yue people, while some danced with wild, untamed movements reminiscent of northern nomads.

Once all four teams were dancing, Logan gave the command. Over twenty people lined up at one corner of the dance floor, each holding a bamboo pole, forming a large formation.

E Gong Yuchi Jingde took up his horse spear, prepared for any emergency, while Emperor Li Shimin rested his chin on his hand, watching with keen interest.

“No need to worry. A simple country bumpkin wouldn’t dare act recklessly here,” Li Shimin said with seasoned insight, finding the bamboo poles quite amusing.

***

All eyes in the hall were fixed on the bamboo pole formation. Juntao stood in the center, clad in red, shining like a pearl in the dance floor.

Logan instructed the twenty or so to form a circle and tap the bamboo poles rhythmically—first slowly, then gradually faster.

Spectators murmured among themselves.

“A bunch of beggars performing in the dance hall? Are you kidding me?”

“Look at those rustic slaves, daring to be so insolent before His Majesty, insulting the imperial dignity! Let’s see how they’ll pay for this.”

“This year’s competition is quite amusing—a red flower blooming in a pile of cow dung!”

Logan paid no mind to the insults. As the rhythm reached its peak, he shouted loudly, “Move to my beat!”

The bamboo poles were quickly placed on the ground, opening and closing rhythmically in a spectacular display. Juntao danced between the gaps, pausing and leaping.

Following the beat of the poles, Juntao moved swiftly back and forth, constantly changing formations like a nimble swan, swaying gracefully and dancing among the poles. Her fair toes barely touched the ground, light as a dragonfly skimming the water.

The audience’s loyalty was fickle; they mercilessly mocked poor performances but eagerly praised those they favored. Logan’s troupe, with their muddy faces and wild shouts, was met with disdain, while Juntao’s performance brought joy and praise.

“Look! That girl is truly beautiful!” a middle-aged man exclaimed. Nearby, a little boy fussed, wanting to be lifted.

The father sighed but obliged, lifting him onto his shoulders. The boy laughed happily.

“Dad, look! Those muddy fellows can dance! Their hips sway like that—it’s so funny!”

The father smiled warmly, his face beaming with pride. “You hopeless kid! I show you a beautiful lady and you stare at the muddy ones instead—truly disappointing!”

Nearby, a woman gazed in amazement at Juntao’s figure, sighing, “Is there truly such a radiant woman in the world?”

“But she’s too thin, not plump enough, unlike the daughters of wealthy families.”

In no time, Juntao successfully captivated the entire hall. Logan, within his own view, repeatedly tried to establish contact with Li Shimin but received the hint: “The other party is too handsome to engage with you and rolled their eyes.”

Clearly, there was no shortcut. Suddenly, Logan shouted and crouched on the floor, pounding the floorboards while howling and keeping rhythm.

He shouted rock music lyrics—clearly a rock rhythm—leaving the nobles in the viewing gallery dumbfounded.

“What is this commoner doing? How outrageous! To behave so crudely before His Majesty!”

“His howling is somewhat amusing. Let’s see how he continues.”

“The bamboo pole beat! Our great Tang truly is vast—there’s nothing strange under heaven!”

Li Shimin muttered, “If Lord Zheng were here, I wonder what he would think… Interesting!” He glanced toward Lord Zheng’s seat, but no one was there.

***

After the dance ended, Logan was reluctant to stop, but as the others had already left, he had no choice but to lead them off the stage.

Juntao looked uneasy, linking arms with Logan as they walked.

“How do you think we did? Will it work?”

“It will! Look—the entire hall’s eyes are on you.”

Juntao frowned. “I think they’re mostly on you. You were shouting and yelling, almost scaring me.”

Logan’s muddy face looked comical. Honestly, he hadn’t planned to make a fool of himself on such a big stage. But then he thought: it was all for the mission. Whether he lost face or not didn’t matter—the process was irrelevant.

As he pondered, a sudden melancholy washed over him. He seemed to feel that the hand Juntao linked with his was cold and lacked warmth.

Those waiting for the results gathered together. An examiner approached to ask who the one shouting was in Juntao’s troupe, making Juntao alert. Logan, unconcerned, gave his own name. The examiner was satisfied and left.

Not long after, the results were announced. As expected, Juntao advanced to the second round. Cheers erupted—finally making real progress!

But Xiao Zhi was sweating nervously. Logan approached, puzzled, and was stunned speechless.

Logan’s name was on the list—at the very bottom.

“What’s going on? How come your name is there too?” Juntao asked, confused.

Logan replied, “I don’t know either. I was just supporting your performance.”

Logan’s gaze drifted toward the viewing gallery, as if among the sea of faces, a pair of eyes looked at him with solemn authority.